


I Can Feel It Coming In The Air Tonight

by AllDaveKat



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Claustrophobia, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quadrant Confusion, Sex Pollen, Shoosh-Papping, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllDaveKat/pseuds/AllDaveKat
Summary: A transportalizer accident leaves Dave stranded on Alternia during drone season, and he gets an overdose of mating hormones. Luckily, Karkat is there to take care of him.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 29
Kudos: 267





	1. What's A Troll?

==> Dave: Wake up.

The blistering, oppressive heat broiling your skin is what rouses you. You open your eyes, then immediately groan and close them because _ouch_ , fuck, what the actual hell is going on with the sun right now?? You know you have unusually sensitive eyes, but it’s never been this bad before. Your bare face and arms feel like they’ve got a second degree sunburn, you’re drenched in sweat, and you’re actually panicking a little bit.

Where the fuck are you?

The last thing you remember, you were at Jade’s house.

You’d been hanging out with her while she was fuckin’ around trying to fix her transportalizer. When you’d come over to visit her that morning, using the transportalizer on the roof of you and Bro’s apartment building, it had taken a good thirty seconds longer than usual for you to actually materialize on the platform. It was a little freaky, if you’re being honest.

After tinkering for a while, she’d been about to step on the transportalizer to test it out, when your knightly instincts kicked in and you pushed her out of the way, volunteering yourself. You stepped forward and-- You don’t remember anything else after that.

Covering your face with your hand--and okay, you have your _shades_ on, and it’s _still_ this bright out??--you sit up and squint through your fingers, trying to get an idea of your surroundings. You’re in some kind of a grassy field at the edge of a forest. A few weird, dark grey, Dr. Seuss-lookin’ buildings are scattered in the distance.

The burning heat is becoming worse by the second; you need to find a place to hide out from the heat, and soon.

Scrambling to your feet unsteadily, you lurch into the forest, all too aware of your loud footsteps crunching through the leaves and twigs. The shade of the trees helps a bit with your burning skin, but it’s still hot as shit. You pant, choking on the air that feels like it’s baking you alive. Half-blind, heart pounding in your throat, you stumble deeper into the woods, desperately seeking shelter.

Finally you spot a cave on the side of a hill. You crawl inside, gratefully leaning against the soil and rock wall. It’s blessedly cool in here. You glance around, praying there aren’t any bears in here that are gonna eat you alive or some shit, but it’s empty and silent aside from you and your ragged breathing.

Are you--is this some kind of fucked up nightmare? You’re pretty sure you’re awake, though. But everything around you looks weird and unfamiliar. Even the rocks and dirt look--wrong, somehow.

You can’t really spare any attention to analyze the weirdness of the situation, right now. Priority number one is trying not to keel over from heatstroke. You wipe sweat from your brow as you sit and wait in the shade. Clearly you can’t do anything while the sun’s out, so you’re just hoping it sets soon and you can go find some proper shelter, and maybe like, water.

Several hours pass and you find yourself dozing in and out of consciousness. You awaken from restless sleep after a while, and cautiously peek outside. The sun has finally set, thank god.

The low sound of an engine roars in the distance, maybe an airplane? It’s definitely getting closer to you. As the noise grows louder and closer, you also become aware of a hissing sound, almost like steam being released from a valve. You sit still, trying not to move or even breathe as the machine flies right over your hiding spot. It sounds like it’s literally right above your head, and for several tense moments you’re terrified that someone’s discovered you here.

In the back of your mind you wonder why you don’t want to be found, wouldn’t it be better to ask someone for help? You can’t explain it, aside from a gut feeling, but you think it would be a really bad idea to be discovered. Especially by whatever’s flying overhead.

Thankfully the aircraft, or whatever it is, passes right over you and the sounds begin to fade into the distance.

Then you smell it--a sweet scent in the air. It smells… nice. Like a really hot girl wearing fancy perfume, or something. Was that machine spraying perfume? What the fucking shit. It smells _good_.

Your mouth is watering. Your head spins and your cheeks flame, and you suddenly realize your dick is harder than it’s ever been in your life, holy shit. You moan and palm yourself, but it’s not enough, you need--you need-- You need to get fucked. Like, right the fuck now.

Some part of your mind that’s still rational reminds you that you’re straight and have never once thought about takin’ it up the ass. Well, maybe once or twice, in the privacy of your bedroom-- come on, a man can’t help what thoughts pop into his head when he’s doin’ the five knuckle shuffle. You try to focus on the weirdness of the feeling, rather than the aching of your cock or the way your asshole clenches down around nothing, but you can’t seem to keep your thoughts clear in your mind. They slip away from you, forgotten in favor of your burning desire.

You can’t think. All you can do is move. You crawl out of the cave, no longer worried about anyone finding you. Dizzy and breathless, your cock tenting your pants, you stumble your way back out of the forest, toward the buildings you saw earlier. Your mind has narrowed to a singular point of focus, and that’s finding someone to fuck you senseless, like, yesterday.

==> Karkat: Hide.

Your consciousness-raising timekeeping device wakes you only moments before you hear the buzzing of imperial drones in the distance.

Shit.

Your heart hammers as you clamber out of your recuperacoon, sopor splattering on the floor. No time to clean it up now. Grabbing your thickest blanket, you run to the basement, nearly tripping and falling down the stairs, and wrench open the trapdoor to your hiding spot. You dive inside and slam the lid, covering yourself quickly with the blanket.

You squeeze your eyes tight, holding your breath so you can hear what’s happening. Listening in terror for the sound of a metallic claw knocking at your door.

It never comes.

You can hear the drones’ engines passing overhead now, muffled as they are through your blanket and several layers of floor. The sounds get farther and farther away, until you can no longer hear them at all. When you’re sure they’re gone, the fear and adrenaline drains out of your body, leaving you shaking and exhausted.

Fuck, that was way too close.

You unlatch the trapdoor and trundle back upstairs. Blugh, you’ve got to clean up the sopor you tracked everywhere, but the sickly-sweet smell of drone mist is already permeating the air inside your hive. Your bulge squirms out and you groan. You know you’ll be next to useless until you take care of this.

Fucking drone season.

Every third bilunar perigee, for five nights in a row, the imperial drones fly overhead and spray hormones in the air. Hormones that induce a seasonal heat in your species.

Now, if you were a _normal_ troll, you’d be shacked up with your matesprit or kismesis right now, filling as many pails as you can for the drones to collect at the end of the heat. But since you’re a mutant freak and presenting your candy-red slurry would get you culled on the spot, you hide in the cellar with a blanket to block your heat signature, and spend the rest of the day jerking off and hating yourself.

One of these sweeps you’re going to fuck up and get yourself culled. Today was almost that day; it’s really only a matter of time. You’re not even sure why you bother fighting to stay alive, except that you’re too fucking scared to die. And your lusus would miss you, too, you guess. But you’re not really living, you’re just surviving from one night to the next, scraping by in your pathetic existence.

You lean against your ‘coon and shove your pants down, grabbing your bulge in your clawed fist and hissing at how good it feels. These stupid fuck-hormones make everything feel so much better, so much more intense. You might as well enjoy it, you guess. You sigh and squeeze your bulge, letting it tangle around your hand. Pre-slurry dribbles onto the floor and the splattering sound makes your nook twitch. Fuck, you wish you had someone to pail with.

You work yourself up, getting closer and closer to orgasm.

Then-- someone knocks on your door.

You freeze, your bulge still thrashing in your hand. Maybe if you don’t answer, they’ll just go away.

“Hey!” a voice calls from outside the door. “Anybody home in there? I could really use a-- uh, a hand--”

Jegus Christ, who the hell is bothering you right now. They’re gonna blow your whole fucking cover if they don’t shut up.

You tuck your bulge back in your jeans, grimacing at the mess all over your hands...and floor…. You quickly scrub away any trace of your mutant red slurry, as your obnoxious visitor continues to bang on your door and yell. Looking out the peephole, your face twists in confusion. What the fuck _are_ they? They’re not a troll, or a lusus, and they’re definitely not one of the walking dead. Whatever they are, they’re vaguely troll-shaped, but without any horns, and their skin is pale white with bright pink patches.

More importantly than that, they’ve got what you’re _fairly_ certain is their bulge, in their fucking hand, rutting helplessly into their fist as they lean against your doorframe.

“Hey, please let me in, man,” they call weakly. “I really-- fuck--” They let out a sharp whine, cutting themself off and shuddering. “I need-- I need help, please--”

You groan silently. Fuck. Fuck fuck fucking fuck your life. If you leave this fucking--non-troll thing--outside your hive, they’re just going to draw attention to you. Your safest option is to bring the dumbass inside where at least you can keep them quiet. You just hope this isn’t some fucking trick.

You unlock your door and open it warily.

==> Dave: Make a new friend.

The door you’ve been knocking on for the past five minutes finally opens, and behind it stands a person dressed in a weird ass costume. They’ve got gray-painted skin and they’re wearing orange striped horns. Whatever, it looks kind of hot on them, actually.

“What the fuck do you want, asshole,” they say, their voice like a rusty hinge.

“Hi,” you pant, your dick still in your hand. “I”m Dave. You’re fuckin’ cute, dude, are you dressed up for a con or something? Can you please fuck me? I don’t know what’s going on, but I seriously feel like I’m gonna fucking die if I don’t get something substantial up my asshole right the fuck now.”

“What the actual fuck,” they grate out angrily. “No, I’m not going to fuck you! I don’t know you, Jegus Christ!”

“Shit,” you say, your legs shaking with need. You’re having to restrain yourself from launching yourself bodily at this guy--you think he’s a guy--and just humping his leg until you cum. You suck on your lip, looking him up and down. God, he’s really fucking attractive. “Alright, uh, well can you point me in the direction of someone who might be dtf?”

He gapes at you. “Are you trying to get fucking culled? What the fuck _are_ you, are you even a troll? Here, just-- get the fuck in here before someone sees you.”

Grabbing you by the arm, he pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you. A thrill of heat runs through your whole body at his touch, and your knees wobble. You moan loudly, pumping your dick harder.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know this isn’t right, you shouldn’t be fuckin’ jacking it in some stranger’s house right on his welcome mat, but the horny parts of your brain are so loud that it’s nearly impossible to think about anything else. Your hand stays glued to your dick and your hips keep thrusting back and forth, fucking into your fist.

“Fucking-- stop that, are you some kind of wiggler who can’t control yourself?” your unwilling host shouts at you.

“What’s a wiggler?” you pant between strokes.

The guy in front of you gapes at you wordlessly as you continue to touch yourself. Somehow in your fucked-up state of mind, you notice something squirming around inside his pants, right about where a dick should be. His zipper’s undone, and something red and slimy pokes out of his crotch and waves at you. What the fuck.

You giggle. “Dude, what the fuck is going on with your dick? Why’s it all red and--tentacley?”

The guy looks down at himself with an inexplicable expression of pure terror, and slaps his hands over his wiggley dick.

“Fuck!” he says, his voice shaking. He’s suddenly giving off a vibe of someone who’s afraid he’s about to fucking die, what the hell. It’s at complete odds with the desperate horny vibes pumping through your own body right now, and you’re really confused. Should you be scared, too? What’s even happening right now? “I’m-- I’m a rustblood, I swear! It just looks brighter in this lighting-- Please--”

“A whatblood?” Nothing he’s saying is making any sense. “Dude,” you whine. “I don’t care about your _blood_ , I’m more focused on your dick. I don’t give a shit if it’s red or brown or purple, I just need it inside me, like, _now_. Pretty fuckin’ please?”

==> Karkat: Panic.

What the fuck. What the actual fuck.

You’re trying really hard not to hyperventilate from panic right now; you feel like you’re about to throw up. Your bloodpusher’s beating as fast as a squeakbeast’s, and your hands are trembling over your crotch. You’re amazed you haven’t fucking pissed yourself from fear.

This pale, hornless troll just wandered into your hive, juiced the fuck up on drone hormones, asking you to fuck him--never mind that he didn’t even specify a fucking quadrant--and he _saw_ your fucking _mutant bulge_. He should have called the drones on you already, you should be dead right now. Why aren’t you dead right now?

Before you can make sense of the situation, he starts grabbing at your pants, trying to pull them down. You squawk and kick him in the head, sending him toppling to the floor onto his ass, knocking his head on the floor. He groans, pressing his hands to the back of his head in pain. Thankfully, this means he’s stopped making moves to touch himself and/or you.

You look at him carefully, trying to quell the shaking in your hands. Your body still thinks it’s about to die, and it can fuck off and calm the fuck down. Clearly this asshole’s in no position to report you to anyone. You’re still apprehensive about what he might do when he sobers up from what seems to be an _excessively_ bad reaction to drone mist, but until then, anyway, you’re probably safe.

“What the hell are you?” you ask him. “Are you even a troll?”

“What’s a troll?”

“A-- what the fuck? What do you mean, _what’s a troll_?”

“I mean what I said, bro. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, any more than I know where the fuck I am, or what you’re dressed up as. What the hell are those weird ass horns for, anyway?”

You touch your horns self-consciously. Why is he pointing out your horns instead of your mutant blood color? You know they’re kind of nubby and useless, but… he couldn’t possibly have just _not_ noticed your color, could he? Maybe he’s fucked up enough on the hormones that he actually didn’t notice. You subtly zip your pants up again, tucking your still-writhing bulge away uncomfortably. “What do you mean? They’re just my horns.”

“Aren’t you wearing a costume or something? Why are you all gray and shit?”

“No?” you say incredulously. “This is just how I fucking look. All trolls are ‘gray and shit’ like me. You’re the one who’s fucking weird looking.”

You squat down to get a better look at him, still maintaining a few feet of safe distance. His skin is so _pale_ and smooth, except where it’s red and peeling in several places. You wonder if he got trapped out in the sun earlier. Shit. You should probably get him some lotion, maybe some water to drink. His weird, pale bulge is still out, and twitching a little, but he’s not touching it anymore. He looks exhausted, like he’s about to pass out, actually. Maybe kicking him shook something loose.

You speak slowly, like you’re talking to a wiggler, because clearly this idiot needs everything spelled out to him in the most basic of terms. “I’m a troll, and we’re on Alternia. My name is Karkat, and you’re in my hive. What’s your name?”

“‘M Dave,” he slurs. “What’s Alternia, is that like some kind’a tropical island?”

“It’s the planet we’re on. Dave,” you roll his name over your tongue. It sounds weird. “I think you might not be from around here. How did you get here?”

“Fuck if I know, dude, I was at my friend’s house and I stepped on her transportalizer, and then I jus’ woke up outside and the sun was blasting me like we were in a celebrity twitter battle. Then I chilled in a cave for a while, and some helicopter flew over and spritzed me with perfume, ‘n then I came here to try and get some Vitamin D if you know wh’I’m sayin’. Wonk.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying whatsoever,” you say. “Listen, I think you’re suffering from an overdose on drone hormones, which is what’s making you act like _that_ ,” you slap his hand away as it starts crawling toward your crotch again, “you horny fuck. You probably have mild heatstroke, too. The sun’s no joke, and it looks like you have some nasty burns. Let’s go upstairs, I’ve got some first aid supplies in my block.”

Dave just sits there, unmoving. You groan and reach down to grab him by his weird, clawless hands, tugging him up to a standing position. He wobbles on his legs, and you hoist his arm over your shoulder, supporting him as you slowly walk upstairs. After a few steps, he regains his footing--mostly--but continues leaning on you. You think he might be nuzzling his face into your hair.

This whole situation is so fucked up, but you’re also hyper-aware that you a) haven’t touched another person/troll aside from your lusus in _sweeps_ , and b) you’ve had a pretty solid dose of drone hormones yourself. So basically, the pale alien squirming against you and smelling your hair is not helping with your wriggly situation. You try your best to ignore it as you heft him up the stairs.

You dump him onto the couch in your respiteblock and grab your first aid kit. It’s old and mostly expired, you don’t have a lot of money to be always buying and replacing things like a highblood could, but it’s better than nothing. You find a tube of burn cream, and squirt a generous amount onto your finger, smearing it over the angry red skin on his forearms. He looks at you with his eyes glazed, licking his lips.

“Y’re fuckin’ _hot_ , dude,” he says. “Like, I know y’said I’m on some weird horny-drugs or somethin’, but I think even without those I’d still be all over you like white on fuckin’ rice. Ten outta ten, cutest alien lifeform I ever met.”

“Shut up.” You’re trying really hard not to think about how your bulge is still writhing in your jeans, and your eyes are dilated from the drone hormones running through your own veins. You close your eyes. It’ll pass, you tell yourself, as a particularly strong wave of arousal makes you shudder. It’ll take an excruciating few hours for the worst of it to work its way out of your system, but it always passes eventually.

“Oh, shit,” Dave says. “D’you get blasted with fuck drugs too?”

You grimace. “Everyone gets ‘blasted’ with them, you numbskull. That’s the whole fucking point of drone season.”

“Then damn, dude, why don’ we just fuck it out? You’re down, and I’m down,” he suggests, waggling his eyebrows above his ridiculous sunglasses.

“First of all, I’m not ‘down.’ And secondly, you’re fucking injured and half out of your mind,” you say, handing him a glass of water.

You’d give him some painkillers, too, but you have no idea how they’ll interact with his biology. Even the burn cream is risky to be using; it might not work at all, or it might have some horrible side effect that makes his arms fall off. How the fuck would you know? He’s a goddamn alien.

You stand up, subtly adjusting yourself in your pants. “What you _need_ right now is to sleep this shit off, and then go back to wherever you came from so I can be blessedly alone again.”

“I really wanna fuck you, Karkat,” he whispers.

Your bulge chooses that moment to thrash violently, and you stifle a groan. Fuck. No. No! This isn’t happening, you’re not fucking pailing with this pathetic sunburnt alien just because you’re both high on drone mist.

Dave’s eyes are positively locked onto your crotch. You turn away from him, clenching your fists.

“Not happening,” you growl, trying to keep the shake out of your voice.

You drag your desk chair in front of the couch and set your husktop on it. It’s paused on the movie you were watching last night, a pale romance you’ve seen roughly three hundred times, and you restart it from the beginning. Hopefully it’ll keep this fucker entertained for a couple hours until the drugs are out of his system.

He’s splayed out over the entire couch, and after a moment of consideration, you opt to sit on the floor instead of trying to squeeze up there with him. He’d definitely just try to grope you the whole movie, and, just, no.

“You should drink the rest of that water. Heatstroke,” you say gruffly, before turning your attention to the movie.

He whines, the sound going straight to your bulge, which you steadily ignore, but then thankfully chugs the water. You’re really not in the mood for dealing with an alien corpse today, fuck you very much.

Halfway through the movie you hear what sounds like _snoring_ coming from behind you, and you’re actually so shocked that you wrench your neck turning to look. But nope, you weren’t imagining it, this fucking dumbass actually _fell asleep_ in your hive. Despite knowing nothing about you, and being in a weakened physical state. What the actual fuck is wrong with him??

You realize you’re staring, and also that your bulge is _still_ fucking out, and you curse under your breath. You’re pretty sure it’s not going to go away by itself, at least not for another couple hours.

There have been times before when you’ve overdone it, jacking off too aggressively in the first couple days of a drone season, and by the fourth or fifth day it actually hurts to touch yourself. On those days, you sometimes try waiting it out instead of painfully attempting to get yourself off. Sometimes it works, but other times you end up suffering with an uncomfortable wriggly for three or four hours before it _finally_ gets the hint and goes back in your sheath.

You don’t want to deal with that kind of nonsense today, so you stand up quietly and tiptoe out of the block, glancing back to make sure Dave’s still asleep. Making your way to your ablution block, you shut and lock your door, then strip your jeans off, grimacing at the absolute mess of pre-slurry coating the dark fabric. Your bulge slaps against your legs and you reach your hand down to tangle with it, moaning at the sensation.

You step into the shower stall and hold yourself up against the wall with your free hand. With your other, you continue working your bulge, moving quickly. This isn’t the time for candlelight and roses, you just want to get off quick. You’re already dripping red everywhere; you hate looking at the color of it, so you close your eyes. Despite yourself, you find your mind wandering to the alien currently asleep in your respiteblock.

Fuck, you still can’t believe he _fell asleep_ in your hive. The implications of trust there are… you’re sure it’s just an alien thing, either that or he’s just even more out of his fucking pan than you thought, but. It does things to your romance-obsessed, attention-starved pusher.

He really isn’t bad looking, either, for an alien. You’re not sure what his species is “supposed” to look like, but you find yourself admiring his lithe form, thin legs and arms, soft skin and lips. He does look admittedly weird without horns, but you can just imagine they’re even nubbier than yours, and got buried in his hair or something.

You grind into your hand, moaning, as your thinkpan helpfully supplies an image of Dave on his knees, sucking your bulge into his mouth. His teeth don’t even look sharp, it probably would feel fucking incredible… You were already embarrassingly close before you even touched yourself, and you were never going to last long at all, especially once you started thinking about Dave’s hot wet mouth all over you.

Clenching your fists, your body shakes and shivers, wracking you in orgasm. Your legs threaten to collapse, your nook clenches, and slurry gushes down your bare legs, splattering all over the shower drain. Panting, you work yourself through the aftershocks, chasing the last of your high, before letting go of your bulge.

Feeling vaguely sick at the sight of so much _red_ everywhere, you quickly turn on the shower and rinse clean. You get dressed and return to your respiteblock.

Dave’s still asleep on the couch, but he’s curled up and hugging himself like he’s cold. You bite your lip, hesitating before grabbing a spare sweatshirt from your closet and draping it over him. You look the other way while you do it, as if the lack of a witness makes it less pan-wrenchingly pathetic. You literally just jacked off thinking about him red, and now you’re acting totally pale towards him… Never mind that you _just_ met the fucking guy! Once again, Karkat Vantas catches feelings for the first pathetic creature that flops helplessly into his vicinity, _and_ can’t keep his goddamn feelings in a single quadrant. You’re a broken mutant fuck-up, what else is new.

The movie’s done playing, so you put on a new one. You sit down at the far end of the couch, glancing warily at the sleeping alien next to you. He’s kind of… cute. Your mouth twists, and you force yourself to stop staring at him, turning back to the screen.


	2. Super Duper Straight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for intentional self-injury and blood in this chapter

The next few hours pass mostly uneventfully. You eat lunch, watch another movie, feed your lusus some roe cubes, and shoot the shit with Sollux for a while over Trollian.

You’re starting to get hungry again and thinking about making dinner, when Dave finally stirs next to you.

You keep a wary eye on him as he sits up, stretching and yawning.

“Damn, I needed that nap,” he mumbles.

He looks up at you, then glances away quickly, his face flushing. “You got a bathroom around here? I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You point down the hall. “Ablution block’s on your left. The loadgaper’s handle sticks sometimes, make sure you press it down all the way or it won’t flush.”

He gives you a thumbs up and disappears down the hall, moving more gracefully than you’d expect for someone who was wobbly on his feet just a few hours ago.

==> Dave: Regret.

Hurrying to the bathroom, you lock the door behind yourself, your heart pounding and your face burning.

Okay, here are the facts. Tonight, you stumbled into this stranger’s house, with your dick in your hand, and begged him to fuck you. In the ass. Like you were gay or some shit.

He refused, thank _god_ , and basically took care of you and let you sleep on his couch like a bro. You have no idea how you’re going to pay him back for this, but you’ll figure something out. Jesus.

This guy, Karkat, had said you were fucked up on some kind of weird _sex_ drugs, which apparently this planet just randomly sprays into the air--oh yeah, you’re also on a different planet. That’s fun, cool, not terrifying or confusing in the least.

So, okay, the drugs made you gay for a couple hours. No big deal, it shouldn’t be a problem now, right? It’s out of your system now, so you should be back to your old, one-hundred-percent-heterosexual self.

Right?

Except…

An image of Karkat from earlier swims into your memory. You remember him sitting in front of you, putting cream on your sunburns, and biting his lip as the sex drugs pumped through his veins. You remember something wiggling around in his pants, something that you very badly wanted inside you.

Fuck-- stop it!

You shake your head, trying to clear it, but instead your brain decides to think about shoving your hand down his pants to find out what strange wiggly dick he might have. Imagining the face he would make when you touch him just right. God dammit, why can’t you stop thinking about this?

Your dick is half-hard now, and you steadfastly ignore it. You’re not fucking gay, this is probably just some weird lingering side effect of the fuck drugs. You absolutely _refuse_ to strip your dick thinking about this alien dude you just met.

You grab your phone from your pocket and pull up Pesterchum, thinking maybe you can contact Jade and at least let her know you’re alive and whatnot, but of course you don’t have any fucking signal here. You’re on an alien fucking planet, you don’t know what you expected.

You piss and wash your hands, then return to Karkat’s room. He’s sitting on the couch in the dark, his face glowing from the light of his laptop screen. He looks up at you.

“Uh, hey,” you say, standing in the doorway.

He just stares at you like you’re being a fucking idiot, which you are.

“I just wanted to say, like, I’m real sorry for what happened earlier, y’know... when I first came by. I was, uh, not myself. I mean, I guess that’s obvious, you’re the one who told me why I was actin’ like that, but. Yeah. Normally I wouldn’t be comin’ into a stranger’s place and throwin’ myself at him. Especially if that stranger’s a dude, cause I don’t swing that way, I mean nothin’ against it if you’re like that, but I’m just not--”

He interrupts you. “What the shit does that mean, you don’t ‘swing that way’?”

“Uh, I’m not gay?” He still looks confused. “I’m not down with the schlong, not hungry for sausage and eggs… Um. I don’t fuck guys.”

“What the nooklicking fuck? You mean, not _any_ guys at all? Why in the hell not, that makes no sense, you’re cutting your mating options in half.”

Goddammit, you did not sign up to give a sexuality lesson to a fucking alien today. “Man, I don’t know, it’s just how humans work. Humans--that’s the species I belong to. The majority of us only wanna get down with the opposite gender, because that’s how you make babies. Although some folks are into the same gender, and some are into both, and there’s a lot of other variations but yeah, we all have like, specific preferences on that shit. Do y’all not?”

“Not really? At least not that I’m fucking aware of, anyway,” he says, furrowing his brows. “I mean, on a planet where you get culled for not providing genetic material, you kind of take what you can get. Not a lot of time to worry about inane bullshit like gender.”

Oh. Okay, cool. So he’s like. He’s bi, you guess? Cool. Not a problem. No big deal. You wonder if he’s attracted to you. Fuck! Stop thinking about that, Dave, god.

“Ha, yeah, I guess that’d do it. Anyway, uh, I ‘preciate you hostin’ me here and all, but I totally understand if I’m crampin’ your style, I can take off if you’re wantin’ some alone time.”

“You’re not going anywhere, dipshit,” he says, rolling his eyes in a full-body motion. “First of all, you’ll burn to fucking death out there in a few hours when the sun comes up, and that’s only if the undead don’t get you first, or the drone patrols, or the musclebeasts, or god forbid a group FLARP group sets their sights on you. Alternia is _not_ the place to be wandering around like a fucking sight-seeing imbecilic tourist.”

You open your mouth to protest, you’re not _that_ helpless after all. You grew up with Bro training you, and sure you don’t have your sword with you here or anything, but... you could probably figure _something_ out. Maybe.

Mostly you just don’t want to be a burden on the guy, it’s making your skin itch just knowing that you’re unwelcome here.

He must sense your hesitation, because he softens a little. “Seriously. Stop. Just fucking stay. For now, at least, until we can figure out a better fucking plan.”

There’s something genuine in his voice, like actual _care_ , that makes you step back away from the door and go sit back down on the couch.

“Alright, then, my excellent host,” you say, because obviously the best way to get past a weird pseudo-emotional moment like that is to make light of the situation. “What’s on the agenda for the rest of the night then?”

==> Karkat: Be an excellent host.

You’re relieved when Dave agrees to stay. Not that you have any obligation to take care of this idiot, but you know your stupid bleeding-heart self would be worried sick about him if he just took off. Whatever. You know you have fucking issues, that you don’t act like a proper troll, you’re not violent enough, you’re basically just a shitty crybaby. You figure it’s a side effect of the mutation, and it just makes you hate yourself even more.

You’re a little weirded out about what Dave said about gender, and you’re still not totally sure you understand it? But you’re pretty sure the gist of it was, he didn’t mean any of the shit he said about being attracted to you earlier, because you’re male, so he can’t be attracted to you.

Honestly, it’s a nicer reason for being rejected than you’d ever expected to get. Not that you were pursuing him or anything. But. You basically assumed that if you ever ended up in a mating situation, you’d either be culled on the spot, or--best case scenario, if you found someone who miraculously didn’t want you dead for your mutant status--simply rejected because of your shitty personality.

“You hungry?” you ask. “I was about to make dinner with whatever shit I’ve got lying around. I guess I don’t know if any of it will actually be edible to you, but… I’m not sure if you have a better fucking option than just trying it and hoping for the best.”

“Yeah, I could eat. Uh, don’t worry about it if you do send me into anaphylactic shock or anything, I won’t hold it against you.”

You’re not sure if he’s serious or not.

“...Whatever.” You get up and trudge into the mealblock, and he follows you. Your lusus isn’t around, which you’re kind of grateful for, because you don’t really want to explain _Dave_ to him. You’re not sure how you’d even explain any of this weird situation to him, seeing as you’re still not sure yourself what the fuck happened tonight.

You start pulling ingredients out of the hunger trunk and throwing them on the counter. You think you’ll make grubloaf, it’s quick and you have the ingredients for it. While you’re cooking, Dave sits at the kitchen table, quietly talking to himself. It’s almost too quiet for you to hear, and you try to ignore him, but eventually it just starts pissing you off so much you have to say _something_.

“What the fuck are you mumbling about over there?” you ask loudly, stirring the grubloaf mixture in a bowl.

He jumps and nearly falls off his chair. “What? Oh, shit, was I talking? Sorry about that, uh, I just do that sometimes. Bad habit.” His pink sunburned cheeks flush red all of a sudden, and you almost drop your bowl onto the floor.

“Wh--” you stutter. “What-- what fucking blood caste are you?”

“The fuck is a blood caste? You mean like what’s my social status? Uh, obviously I’m the coolest of the cool, can’t you fuckin’ tell by how cool I am?”

“No, shut up, I mean your blood color. What color is it?” Your heart isn’t pounding out of your chest, you swear.

“It’s red, dawg. Like every other human,” he says, as if that’s just simple common fucking knowledge. Well, you guess for him it is, but--

“Red?? Not rust colored, but candy fucking red?”

“Weird way to phrase it I guess, but yeah it’s more of a bright red color. You wanna see? I can show you.”

To your horror, he grabs one of the kitchen knives and makes a small cut on the outside of his arm. A trickle of candy-red blood--your color, _fuck_ \--drips down his arm. A few droplets fall onto the table. The knife has red on it now. His arm is still bleeding.

Your head spins and you clutch the countertop, looking away, feeling dizzy and sick. Your vision goes spotty around the sides. Fuck. You close your eyes and breathe carefully, trying not to fucking pass out. Why is your biology so goddamn useless?

“Oh, shit, do you have a blood phobia or something? Fuck, sorry, my bad, are you okay?” he says, sounding actually concerned.

When you think you can probably open your mouth without throwing up, you take a deep breath and snap at him. You try to sound angry, but your voice shakes. “No, I don’t have a fucking _blood phobia_ , I just wasn’t expecting you to fucking cut yourself open in my kitchen, jesus! What the fuck kind of asshole goes around slicing himself open and just showing strangers his b-blood?”

“Well, you’re the weird fuckin’ asshole who asked me what color it was, and then acted all freaked out about the idea that it’s red, which is like, objectively the most _normal_ color for blood to be,” Dave shoots back. “Figured it was probably easier to just show you the hemoglobins I’m packin’, so you can see for yourself, considering how you’re so damn curious about it.”

“Are all humans red-blooded?” you ask, curiosity overpowering the fear and anxiety that’s settled over you like a cloud.

“Yep. ‘S pretty much the only thing we all have in common,” he says.

Jegus. An entire planet of people with your blood color. How fucking crazy is _that_. You honestly don’t know what to do with that information right now, so you just put it aside, and start packing grubloaf into a baking tray.

The rest of dinner prep goes uneventfully, and soon you’re setting the steaming hot loaf onto the table. It actually smells pretty fucking good. You’re the best cook, it is you. You hand Dave a bowl and spoon, and serve him first, because you’re fucking polite. Then you serve yourself and dig in.

“Hey,” Dave says with his mouth full, because _he_ apparently has no fucking manners _whatsoever_. “This ain’t ‘alf bad, man.”

“Don’t chew and talk at the same time, you fucking wiggler,” you grumble at him, but you’re not really mad. You’re already starting to get used to the way he casually gets on your nerves.  
After dinner, he helps you with the dishes, and you both head back up to your room. You keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't keel over from the grubloaf being incompatible with his digestive system, but he seems perfectly fine. You end up watching TV together for a while and he talks your fucking ear off the entire time about inane bullshit that you don’t care about. It’s weirdly nice.

A few hours later, you yawn and glance at the clock. You should probably try and get some sleep, although you’re already doubtful you’ll be able to. You’re an insomniac on a good day, and having a stranger in your house does not promise for an easy time falling asleep.

“I’m gonna try and get some sleep, are you gonna be ok out here? I don’t have a spare recuperacoon but you seemed okay sleeping on the couch earlier.”

“Yeah, this couch is comfy as all fuck, I wish our shitty futon back home was half as soft as this. This sucker you’ve got has, like, zero back support, but it molds around your ass like a damn fluffy cloud,” he rambles.

Yeah, he’s fine.

“Hey, do you have Pesterchum?” he asks you as you’re turning away. You turn around, and the confused look on your face must be enough of an answer for him. “Uh, it’s like a messaging app. I was gonna try and contact my friends back home, let them know I’m on an alien planet and shit. You know, the usual. I swear it's almost boring how often this subject comes up.”

You ignore most of what he said. “I have Trollian, I don’t know if it's compatible with whatever you said you use, but you can try it.”

You open the app on your husktop and hand it to him, showing him how to use the keyboard. Miraculously, his login works on Trollian, so you leave him and walk over to your recuperacoon.

You strip down to your underwear, trying to pretend Dave’s not on the other side of the room, keeping your back turned to him. Stepping into the sopor, you submerge yourself up to your neck, and let yourself float comfortably. You turn back around to face Dave, and see him staring at you, looking flushed.

Is he flustered by you taking your clothes off? No, that can't be it, he said he wasn't attracted to guys.

“You okay?” you ask. “You look all red, are you having an allergic reaction to the food after all?”

He jumps, and puts a hand over his face, turning away slightly. “Nope, I’m good bro, nothin’ wrong here.” His voice sounds high pitched and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem to be collapsing on the floor or anything, so you leave it alone.

You try to fall asleep, but the knowledge that someone else is in your hive is just making it impossible to relax. After lying there for an hour without your eyes even getting remotely heavy, you decide it’s just gonna be one of those nights where you don’t sleep. That’s fine, you’re fucking used to it.

You groan and stand up, letting the sopor sluice off your skin, and trudge into the ablution block to rinse off. You dry off and throw on your sweatpants and sweatshirt again, and then join Dave on the couch.

He’s in the middle of watching _Troll Ten Things I Hate About You_ , your absolute favorite pitch romance movie. It improves your mood just a tiny bit, and you settle in, grabbing your snuggleplane and wrapping it around yourself.

He glances up at you. “Can’t sleep?”

“What gave it away?” you grumble. You yawn, rubbing your face. “Were you able to contact anyone from home?”

“Yeah, actually, had an assload of missed messages from everyone. Turns out they got a little worried when I up and disappeared off the face of our planet, so they were pretty happy to hear I’m not dead or anything. Uh, they had an idea to get me back home, too, but it’d require a transportalizer. You don’t happen to have one of those lying around here, or anything, do you?”

“I have no idea what the fuck a transportalizer is,” you say.

“It’s like… a platform that you stand on, and it teleports you somewhere else.”

“I’ve definitely never seen anything like that before,” you admit. “But if anyone knows about it, it’ll be my hatefriend Sollux. Hang on a sec.”

Grabbing your husktop, you start trolling Sollux. It takes a few minutes to explain why the fuck you’re asking about this particular subject, because he’s a nosy fuck and won’t take “none of your business” for an answer. Surprisingly, though, he actually knows what the fuck Dave’s talking about. Apparently transportalizers are an old, almost vintage tech, but they can still be found fairly easily on the black market. Sollux offers to order one to your hive if you agree to pay him back with no less than three (3) favors in the future. You reluctantly agree, because your life is already terrible, so why not let your best hatefriend ruin it even further. Go fucking nuts.

He says it’ll take a couple days for the parts to arrive, but then he can walk you through setting it up. You thank him, he tells you to fuck off.

You explain everything to Dave, and he nods.

“Thanks, man, I really hope this shit works. Not that you haven’t been chill as fuck to hang out with or anything, but I’m guessin’ you weren’t exactly wanting a brand new alien housemate. Plus I’d like to, y’know, get back home. All my stuff’s at home. All my cool dead stuff in jars.”

You give him a look, and put the movie back on instead of responding to any of that nonsense. You watch the rest of it with occasional interjections from Dave, sometimes pausing to explain something to him relating to troll culture. It’s kind of fucking amazing how much he just doesn’t _know_. Obviously you’re aware he’s an alien so it makes sense that he doesn’t know this shit, but it still keeps throwing you off.

Like earlier, with your blood. He just cut himself open to show you the candy-red death sentence circulating inside him, just casual as fuck as if he was showing you his sign or something. You’re irrationally glad that he ended up in your hive, and not someone else’s. Someone who might not be so welcoming to a mutant-blooded alien breaking down their door and trying to pail.

Speaking of which.

You’re fairly certain the drone mist is completely out of your system by now, but for some reason you still find yourself being drawn to Dave. Physically, you mean. Partway through the movie, you notice you’ve moved closer to the middle of the couch, nearer to Dave. You freeze and surreptitiously scoot back to your side, away from him. Then a few minutes later, the same thing happens again. It’s like your body just wants to be _near_ him.

You hope he hasn’t noticed how weird you’re acting. Not that you care what he thinks of you or anything, fuck that, but it’s just… kind of embarrassing. You’re like a wiggler with a crush who can’t control himself from wanting to follow the object of his affections around the schoolhiveyard.

==> Dave: Be super straight.

You’re being _so_ straight. The straightest, even.

Just because you got a boner when Karkat took his fucking clothes off to get in his weird goop pod thing, doesn’t mean you’re not straight. And just cause when he got back out of it an hour later to take a shower, you ogled his ass the entire way across the room tryin’ to catch a glimpse of his wiggly dong again. Doesn’t mean you’re not straight. Right?

...Fuck.

You may be having some realizations about things.

Realization A: One time when you were thirteen you saw John shirtless in a Skype call one time and had dreams about kissing him for the next week. You totally panicked and never told anyone about it, although Rose could tell you were acting weird.

Realization B: You distinctly remember a series of incognito google searches you made a couple years later, that were along the lines of, “does a wet dream about obama mean youre gay?”

Realization C: You seriously can’t stop thinking about wanting this gray-skinned alien dude to pound your ass with his tentacle dick right now.

All of these realizations are leading up to an unwelcome conclusion, which is that you think maybe you might not be as super duper straight as you’d once originally thought you were.

You might be freaking out just a tiny bit.

You spend the next several hours watching movies with Karkat and trying not to think about anything pertaining to your sexuality. Karkat’s being sort of squirmy on the couch, he keeps moving around and shifting position, but you’re not about to call him out on it or anything. A dude can be weird and shifty in his own home if he wants.

At one point you notice he’s sitting real fucking close to you, your thighs are almost touching together, and you can’t stop thinking about what if you just leaned over, and kissed him, and wormed your hand down into his pants, and-- and-- fuck, now you’re hard again. God fucking dammit. You spend the next twenty minutes suffering and horny until he scoots away from you to the other side of the couch.

As the sun sets behind Karkat’s tinted windows, he starts nervously checking the clock and appears to be listening for something. After a couple minutes he pauses the movie playing on his weird bug-lookin’ laptop and stands up, picking up a heavy blanket from the floor.

“Come on, we should go downstairs. Drone sweep.”


	3. A Stronger Dose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic got a lot more plot-y than i intended. hope you enjoy ;3

“Drone-- what?” you ask, following Karkat down the stairs.

“You know. Like yesterday. The drones come by, they spray hormones in the air, we get to suffer.”

“Fuck, does that happen every night?” you ask, horrified.

“Just during drone season.”

He leads you down to his basement, and you’re vaguely worried he’s gonna axe-murder you. Your fears are not soothed when he lifts up a heavy wooden trapdoor in the floor and indicates for you to get inside.

“Uh, ok, why am I getting inside this creepy basement hole again?” you ask nervously.

To your confusion, he looks embarrassed instead of murdery. “It’s… fuck. Would you believe me if I just said you have to? For your safety?”

“Um. I mean, not really, I’m a little worried you’re gonna murder me right now tbh,” you say, shuffling your feet. “But I guess if you were gonna do that you probably woulda already right?”

“Fucking god dammit,” he groans. “I’m not gonna fucking _murder_ you, idiot. I’m trying to keep us alive right now. Just-- get in the fucking hole.”

You get in the fucking hole.

It’s cramped, especially when he climbs in next to you and closes the door. It’s pitch fucking black in here, and you’re sitting with your knees huddled to your chest. Your head is scraping the trapdoor. Fuck, you’re starting to panic a little bit.

You’re not exactly claustrophobic, but you have just a teensy bit of nervousness with being locked into small spaces, due to an incident in your childhood where Bro locked you in the attic with Lil Cal for several hours. You swear to god Lil Cal moved around every time you blinked or looked away, and you forced yourself to sit still with your eyes open as long as possible. By the time Bro brought you back out, you were shaking from fear, and you had nightmares for months afterward.

You feel Karkat’s leg brush against yours, and you yelp, clapping your hand over your mouth. Your heart is beating really fucking fast. You feel like you can’t breathe. Fuck. You have to get out of here. You scrabble around in the dark with your bare hands, trying to find the latch of the trapdoor.

A pair of clawed hands grab yours.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Karkat hisses.

“K-Karkat,” you whisper frantically, your voice cracking. “Fuck, man, you gotta let me out of here, I can’t fuckin’ breathe, I gotta get out--” You think you might be sobbing a little bit. Fuck, this is so unbelievably uncool.

Instead of letting you out, he wraps his arms around you, and after a moment, he pats your face with his hand in kind of a downward-dragging motion. “Shhhhhh,” he whispers repeatedly.

You can feel your body shaking under his touch, can hear your ragged breath in the confined space. He keeps making these shushing noises, and touching your face like that, and it’s so weird and distracting that it’s actually calming you down a bit.

Your heart is still pounding, but you after a minute you can breathe again, and you lean into his touch just a little bit. As horrible and scared as you feel right now, a tiny part of you is enjoying the way it feels to just touch another person like this. You’ve never been cuddled before, not that you can remember anyway, and it feels. Really fucking nice.

After a few minutes, he starts talking, still petting your face with his hand.

“I’m really fucking sorry we have to do this. It’s my fault. I’m-- God, this is really hard to talk about, shit.” He pauses for a few moments. “Remember when you showed me your blood color, earlier?”

You have no fucking idea why he’s bringing that up again, but you don’t have it in you to question it. You nod, and hope he can tell.

“Well, the reason I freaked out so bad about it, is because I have the same color as you. And my color--our color--is a really fucking bad color to have, here. I’m a mutant. Trolls with my blood color, we get culled if we’re found. It’s honestly a shitfucking miracle I’ve survived this long in my pathetic pointless life.”

He sighs.

“My lusus came up with this solution years ago. If I hide down here under the floor and cover myself in this unreasonably thick snuggleplane, the drones can’t tell I’m here. Their heat sensors don’t pick me up, so they think it’s just an empty hive. Hence why I’m still alive at nine sweeps.”

Fuck, man. You don’t know what the fuck to say to that. You’d give him a hug or pat him on the shoulder or something, but he’s got your arms trapped in his tight embrace.

Your voice is thick, but you manage to speak. “That’s awful, man, I’m sorry.”

You can feel him shaking his head. “Ugh, seriously, don’t worry about it. I didn’t tell you so you’d fucking pity me or anything.” He stumbles slightly on the word _pity_. “I just wanted you to understand why we have to be in this shitty uncomfortable situation right now.”

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, just breathing together in the dark. Then you hear it. The sound of an engine in the distance.

It passes slowly overhead, and you feel Karkat’s grip on you tighten. He’s barely breathing right now. After several nerve-wracking moments, though, the engine sound begins fading away, and soon you can’t hear it anymore. Karkat counts under his breath to one hundred before he lets go of you and unlatches the trapdoor.

You scramble up out of the hole, immediately landing on your ass on the basement floor because one of your legs fell asleep.

“Fuck,” you complain, standing up and wobbling, nearly falling over again.

“Ugh, come here, you useless fucking idiot,” Karkat grumbles, and slips your arm around his shoulders.

He starts helping you up the stairs, just like he did yesterday. Halfway up to his room, the sickly sweet smell of mist hits your nostrils. Your legs buckle, and Karkat grunts as he hefts your weight up the stairs. You think the mist smells stronger than it did yesterday. You start to wonder about that, but before you can form any other thoughts, you’re hit with a full-body shudder and arousal pools in your gut. You turn to look at Karkat, whose body is rubbing up against yours as he basically drags you upstairs, and you whine in his ear helplessly.

He makes a whining, chittering noise back at you, then cuts himself off, looking mortified. Your boner twitches in your pants. You can smell an unfamiliar scent coming off of him; it smells like heat and sex and _want_. You practically drool.

Reaching his room, he shoves you onto the couch, and sits down next to you, facing you. It’s like he can’t stop looking at you just as much as you can’t take your eyes off him. His face is flushed, his eyes wide. You want him so fucking bad, holy shit.

“Karkat,” you groan, rubbing your crotch with your hand over your pants. “Wh-- it’s so strong--”

He closes his eyes, hissing softly. “Yeah, stronger than yesterday. Fuck. Shit. S-sometimes they amp it up on Day 2.”

You moan, half horny and half miserable. “Shit, dude… If y-you don’t want me to jump your bones in like five seconds, you better tie me the fuck down or somethin’.”

He looks at you, his pupils blown. “Do you-- should I do that? What do you want?”

A wave of arousal shakes you to your core, and you sob, unable to think. You feel like you’re about to fall apart with need.

==> Karkat: Assist your hiveguest.

“Shit.” You stand up and start looking around his room for something to tie him up with. Fucking-- obviously, Karkat, he doesn’t want to do this, he told you that yesterday. Fucking idiot.

You find a length of rope, and come back to the couch. You bite your lip. Dave is splayed out on the couch, his hand down his pants, staring at you shamelessly. His shades have come off, and you can see the desire clearly in his eyes. He’s biting his lip hard enough to bleed--there’s that _red_ again, fuck--and you’re pretty sure it’s in an effort not to, as he so eloquently put it, “jump your bones.”

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes and steel yourself. You’re _not_ going to be a shitty person right now, as much as your body’s telling you to do otherwise. You’re going to take care of Dave--platonically. He doesn’t want you like this. He hasn’t consented to anything. You’re _not_ going to fuck his brains out. You’re going to make sure he doesn’t do anything he regrets.

Grabbing him by the wrists, you drag him over to your desk and pull his arms behind him, tying them to the heavy wooden leg. You kneel down to secure the knot, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you, his eyes glazed over. Unfortunately, your bulge is fully expecting to participate in some pailing right now, even though your brain knows you’re not. It’s thrashing in your pants uncomfortably, and the little breathless whines Dave’s making are seriously not helping to calm it down.

Once you’re sure he’s tied up tight and not going anywhere, you sit back down on the couch to watch him. You’re not sure what the fuck else to do-- or how long this is going to last, actually. It seems like you both got hit with a heavy dose but clearly it affects him a lot more strongly. Probably because he’s an alien and it’s not meant for his system, it’s just completely overwhelming him.

He licks his lips, squirming in place, and you can see the tent in the front of his pants where his weird, hard alien bulge is trying to poke through. It’s so strangely enticing. Fuck, stop looking at it.

You really want to go off to your ablution block and take care of your own _problem_ , but it feels wrong to just leave him in here alone. So you just sit and suffer, not knowing what else to do.

“K-Karkat,” he calls across the room.

“What.”

“I need-- hfff-- ahhh-- I need you to fuck me, dude.”

You close your eyes, pretending you can’t feel your nook dripping in excitement at the very idea. “Can’t do that, Dave, sorry. You told me not to.”

“I know I-- hh-- said that earlier, but I fuckin’ take it back, okay? P-past me was a fucking dumbass, please just-- ahhh-- rail me with your weird tentacle dick, I need it, I need you, I need you so bad,” he begs.

Looking up at him, you can see his face is covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re pretty sure yours is too. You dig your claws into the couch cushions to keep yourself from getting up and crossing the room to him, knowing that if you give in, you won’t be able to stop your body from doing what it wants to.

Your bulge fucking aches with the need to be inside something-- inside a tight, hot, wet hole. Like Dave probably has, somewhere, presumably. Jegus, you can’t believe you’re fantasizing about fucking this alien and you don’t even know if your parts are compatible yet.

“It hurts,” he sobs, his voice cracking. “I need something in me, I need to fuck, it hurts so much--”

Tears are falling down his cheeks, his eyelashes are wet. He looks fucking beautiful and you hate yourself for thinking that.

“Dave, I--” you clear your throat, looking away from him. “I think I should go downstairs. It’ll be easier for us to resist-- this, if we’re away from each other.”

You get up and force your legs to start walking to the door, away from Dave.

“No!! No-- please, fuck, don’t leave me--” he cries. He actually sounds terrified, and you stop dead in your tracks, hearing his hitched breaths and choked-off sobs, and hating that you can’t do anything to help. “I can’t be alone right now, I can’t, fuck, Karkat, please just stay. You don’ have to fuck me or anythin’, just please...”

“Okay, okay, shit,” you give in, turning around.

He looks so fucking pathetic, lying on the floor, a small wet spot in his pants from, you assume, his pre-material soaking through. His face is red and sweaty and he’s still crying softly. He looks completely fucking _wrecked_ , and you want so badly to take care of him in any way he needs.

“Karkat, it hurts-- it hurts so bad, I feel like I’m gonna die if I don’t get a dick in me,” he sobs.

A vein is bulging out of his pan, and he’s breathing way too hard and fast, you think he might be hyperventilating. Fuck, this can’t be good for him. He can’t actually die from this, can he? You really have no fucking way of knowing. He’d probably just pass out, right? You’re not sure, and you’re genuinely fucking worried right now. You know he told you--well, implied--that he didn’t want to fuck you, earlier, but. What if it’s actually dangerous for him to be in a state of such heightened desperation for too long? What if it does permanent damage?

You mean to go sit down on the couch again, you really do, but your feet disobey and carry you over to Dave instead. You sit down near him, and shooshpap him again, feeling his skin hot and feverish under your hand. You feel like a fucking pale slut, just like you did earlier during the drone sweep. But you also don’t fucking know what else to do.

Earlier, in the basement, it had seemed to calm him down, but now it only seems to be making it worse, his whines getting louder and more desperate. He’s drooling slightly, his mouth slack, and his face is wet with tear tracks. God, he’s really burning up.

He fights weakly against his bonds, arching his back in an effort to get closer to you. You can’t stop looking at his mouth. His beautiful, perfect, shiny wet mouth. Waves of heat are rushing through your body. Every time you have a coherent thought, like _don’t fuck Dave_ , it’s immediately swept away by arousal and need. You’re so fucked.

“Please, Karkat--” he chokes out.

Your heart is pounding. He looks up at you, every inch of him begging for you to fuck him senseless.

You can feel the moment your resolve snaps.

You lunge at him, attacking his mouth with your lips, shoving your tongue inside, sucking at him, moaning, rutting against his leg. Your hands are all over him, running over his body, touching him, wanting to make him feel good. Wanting to use him to make yourself feel good. Distantly, in the back of your mind, a voice is screaming that you shouldn’t be fucking doing this, but your body is moving on its own now. It’s too late.

You sit back to tear his pants off, and the sight of his bulge, hot and red and _leaking_ , hits you like a blow to the chest. You _need_ him, _now_.

Wrapping your fist around him, you pump quick and dirty, bending down to lick his strange clear material from the tip. You moan as the taste hits your tongue. You shove your own pants and underwear down to your knees, and kneel down, looking around for a nook, a hole, something you can fuck.

He bucks his hips uncontrollably, and you grab his legs and hold them still because you can’t figure out how to fuck him when he’s moving around like this, god dammit!

Lifting up his bulge and the floppy… things behind it, you find a hole. Your bulge worms in there before you consciously decide to let it, and you tremble with the effort of restraining it from plunging in all the way at once. You have no idea if this is even what Dave meant by “fuck me,” but by the way his moans grow louder and his thighs clamp tight around you, you have a pretty good idea that you’re on the right track.

He’s _tight_. And so, so hot. His arms are still tied to the desk, legs bent at the knee to allow you easier access to his hole. You lean over and kiss him sloppily on the mouth.

“Fuck, Dave,” you groan.

Your voice sounds unfamiliar to you, rough and strained with desire. He responds with wordless noises of encouragement, little huffs and moans and whines.

Your bulge presses further into him, all the way up to the base, and his sounds get louder and more desperate. You kiss him again just to shut him up.

It’s only a short time before he’s gasping and clenching around you, and something that you assume is genetic material spurts from the tip of his bulge. You’re aware enough to notice that it’s white, not red, which is weird. But you’re a lot more focused on the way his hole squeezes down on your own bulge, and the expression of hazy, fucked-out bliss on his face.

That’s what pushes you over the edge, along with the incessant fuck-hormones coursing through your body, of course. You grip him with your claws, puncturing his skin as you cum, slurry gushing from your bulge and nook all over Dave, yourself, and the floor.

You sit there, still inside him, panting from exertion. He lifts his head up weakly, and you lean down to meet him in a kiss. Your bulge retracts itself, sliding back out of him, and he twitches and gasps. Reaching around behind him, you untie his wrists, and rub them for him where the rope was bound tight.

You’re so fucking exhausted, you can’t think at all right now. You’re simply acting on instinct. With a heroic effort, you stand up. Dave’s eyelids are already blinking closed, and you lift him in your arms, half-dragging him across the floor to the couch. You’ll clean up the mess later. You deposit him on the couch and flop down next to him, wrapping your arms around him. He mumbles and wiggles back into you a little. He feels so warm and soft. You fall asleep holding him close.


	4. Societally Induced Freakouts

==> Dave: Wake up.

You try to open your eyes, but your eyelids are all crusty and stuck together. You try to reach up to wipe them, and your shoulder twinges in pain. Letting out a groan, you try again, slowly this time, and manage to rub at your eyes until they open.

Jesus, what the fuck happened to you?

Looking down at yourself, you note that a) you’re fully naked from the waist down, and b) your lower half is stained reddish-pink. Memories cross your mind in flashes-- The hormone mist. Asking Karkat to tie you up. Begging him to fuck you, and seeing the repressed lust in his eyes as he tried to resist your advances.

Writhing and moaning on the floor when he finally broke down and stuffed his alien tentadong inside your ass. Holy shit.

That really happened.

And you _really_ liked it.

Fuck. What does that mean?

Even thinking about it right now, your dick is getting half hard all over again, jesus. You sit up, trying to cover yourself. Where the fuck are your pants? Oh, there they are, across the room… ripped in half. Huh.

You hear the sound of a toilet flushing, and a few moments later Karkat stomps into the room. He freezes when he sees you awake.

“Shit,” he says.

“Good morning to you, too,” you quip, because you have no idea what else to do right now except be a sarcastic asshole.

He just looks at you for a moment, then seems to suddenly notice you’re pantsless and flushes bright red, turning away with a muffled squeak. He crosses the room to open a dresser and throws a pair of black sweatpants at you without looking. You tug them on quickly.

“Thanks,” you say when you’re dressed again.

He turns around but can’t seem to meet your eyes, his face still flushed pink. He’s looking all around the room at everything else besides your face. He looks fucking miserable, it’s clear on his face that he is super not okay with everything that went down between you two. Fuck. You feel like such an asshole for making him do that… you weren’t really in control of your actions but you still feel like a reprehensible cockhole.

“Hey,” you say. “I’m uh, really sorry? About what happened, I mean. Obviously I wasn’t in my right mind or anything and you were super good at-- you know, helping me. I, um, appreciate it.” Fuck, this is so awkward. “So yeah, sorry and also thanks.”

He looks at you, disbelieving. “ _You’re_ apologizing?? I’m the one who should-- I was the one who was less affected, more sober, I should have just stepped away and not given into... You were in no way able to fucking consent properly to even _one_ quadrant, let alone-- I-- _fuck_ , I just smeared all my feelings all over you like an inconsiderate, selfish prick. I literally went from pale, to red all in one sitting, and then I fucking clawed your arm up like we were pitch! Who fucking does that?”

He’s hunched over himself, practically hyperventilating, looking like he’s just about to drown in self loathing.

You have a vague idea he’s talking about the bullshit troll romance quadrants, he lectured you about it during some of the movies you’ve watched together, and you absorbed some of the information despite your best efforts to tune him out. But maybe you should have been paying better attention, because you don’t know why he’s so upset right now.

“I don’t really understand what you’re talking about, dude, but I’m not mad at you or anything like you seem to think I should be. Like, yeah, I couldn’t consent to anything but neither could you, we were both blasted to shit on sexy drugs and just doin’ our best to cope. I seriously felt like I was gonna die if you didn’t fuck me, and maybe I would have?? Like I legit don’t know. So, for real, thank you for like, banging my ass back to health.”

You try to twist your mouth into a comforting smile for him. Internally you’re still kind of fucking panicking about the whole gay thing, but Karkat seems to be doing a lot worse than you. Your freakout can wait until he’s okay.

“And as for quadrants and shit, I don’t know jack about any of those, I told you humans don’t do that, so it’s no big. Whatever faux pas you think you committed, I literally am not affected by it because I don’t have any preconceived ideas about how that shit’s supposed to work. You’re fine, man. My arm’s all good too, you barely even scratched me, look.” You show him your arm which is already scabbed over. No harm no foul.

“It’s okay, dude, c’mere,” you say, patting the couch next to you. “I’d come over to you but I’m not sure my legs are gonna work right now to be perfectly honest.”

He bites his lip, hesitating, but eventually comes over to sit down a couple feet away from you on the couch. You try not to feel hurt over it, and then your stomach clenches because why the fuck _are_ you feeling hurt over it? He was just doing you a favor, trying to keep your ass alive by fucking it, it’s not like you guys are suddenly boyfriends or anything. You don’t… you don’t have feelings for him. Okay? You don’t.

You tell yourself that, and then you look up at his face. He looks scared, and angry, and miserable. Fuck. You scoot closer to him and pat him on the shoulder. He jumps, but doesn’t pull away.

“You okay, man?” Your voice sounds embarrassingly soft.

He sighs, looking defeated. You want to hug him so badly. “Yeah, I’ll be fucking fine. Sorry for freaking out on you. I’m just-- every time I think I’ve surmounted the pile of bullshit that makes up my disgusting, awful existence, something else gets dumped on the top. It’s not like I didn’t know, or suspect, that I’m shit at keeping things in one quadrant… I just hoped that when I did finally pail someone, I’d be able to stop blurring and vacillating all over the fucking place. It’s just another evolutionary slap in the face for Karkat Vantas, the shittiest mutant on Alternia.”

His eyes are welling up with pink tears, and he covers his face with his arm. Fuck. You have no idea what to do right now.

“Hey, it’s okay, bro,” you say. “If it helps, I’m havin’ my own societally-induced freakout at the same time, so you’re not alone.”

He looks up, wiping his eyes and frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Well-- like I said before, the whole gay thing,” you say, trying extremely hard not to flush red. “I’m not supposed to want to fuck guys, and like, look how that turned out...”

“Not _supposed_ to? I thought it was just uncommon?” Well, at least your gay freakout is distracting him from his self loathing, you guess. You’re glad it’s good for something.

“It’s… pretty fuckin’ looked down upon, in a lot of circles,” you say. “Like maybe not in all parts of the world but at least where I live, if you’re gettin’ down and dirty with dudes you don’t really talk about it unless you wanna risk getting your ass kicked. Specifically by your guardian, in my case.”

“Oh,” he says. “I’m… sorry?”

You feel his eyes on you, seeing you too clearly. Anxiety prickles on the back of your neck, you feel like you’re being fucking watched by one of Bro’s cameras or some shit. Time to wrap this feelings jam up.

“It’s all good, dude, I’m dealin’. Just wanted to let you know, y’know, it’s ok to feel fucked up about this stuff. That’s all.”

You both sit in silence for a few minutes.

Karkat opens his mouth and closes it a few times. Then, “Want to play Troll Call of Duty?”

You smile. “Hell fucking yes.”

-

You pass the rest of the night mostly chilling and playing games or watching movies. It’s actually really nice. You feel like something’s formed between you, some solid beginnings of a friendship. Despite the fact that you literally had drug-induced butt sex with him mere hours ago, you feel weirdly comfortable around the guy. It feels natural and easy to banter with him. It’s really fucking nice.

That evening--or technically it’s morning you guess. The sun is rising, but you’re already getting used to this nocturnal schedule--Karkat slips into his “recuperacoon” and you fall asleep on the couch. A small part of you laments that you won’t get to cuddle him tonight, and you squash it down, telling yourself to stop being such a needy fuck.

You fall into a restless sleep, waking up every few hours at small noises. Eventually you just give up, sleep is not happening for you. You look across the room and see Karkat’s nubby horns peeking out of his slime pod. You wish you could jump in there and cuddle with him, but first of all, rude, dude needs his personal space, and second of all, you have no idea if the slime will be toxic to you or something. Better not risk it.

You’ve been awake for a few hours when Karkat’s alarm clock goes off, and he emerges out of the slime pod, yawning and sluicing green liquid off himself. He grabs a towel to clean himself off, gets dressed, then turns to you.

“Time to go back down in the basement,” he says, wincing. “Sorry.”

You nod. “It’s ok, dude, I know it’s not your fault or anything. Sorry in advance if I flip out again.”

You follow him downstairs, and force yourself to get inside the cellar. You feel your heart starting to race as he closes the trapdoor over you and wraps you both in his blanket. Your breath starts coming fast and panicked.

“H-hey Karkat, I’m startin’ to-- hh-- freak out, already,” you stutter out in between breaths, grabbing for his hand in the dark. You find it and squeeze it like a lifeline.

“Shit. Did it, um, help what I was doing before? Uh, I’m just gonna try it again, fuck, just tell me if I should stop.”

You feel his warm palm on your face again, sliding down, petting you over and over in a rhythmic motion. You can hear his breath in your ear as he “shoosh”es you.

Your breathing starts to calm down a bit, and you huddle into his side for comfort, barely aware that you’re doing it. If your brain was working properly and not in panic-mode, you might be embarrassed about your behavior, but right now you’re just instinctively moving toward what you find comforting.

After what feels like forever, Karkat petting your face the whole time, you hear the familiar drone sounds above, coming closer and then leaving again. Karkat counts under his breath and finally lets you both out. You stretch your arms and legs out. Man, it’s fuckin’ cramped in there. You can’t believe he’s had to do this his whole life. Your heart aches with sympathy for him.

“Better get upstairs,” he grumbles, folding up his blanket and not meeting your eyes. His cheeks are flushed dark red. You’ve watched quite a few troll rom-coms in the past couple days, and you’re pretty sure you know exactly why he’s embarrassed. What he was doing to you was basically classic pale romantic behavior. Under other circumstances you’d be fucking embarrassed as hell too, but you’re mostly just grateful for it. It really did help calm you down.

You follow him upstairs, and halfway up, the scent of mist hits your nose. You stagger slightly, your head spins, and heat blooms between your legs. God, you’re never gonna get used to how this feels, are you?

It doesn’t feel as strong or terrifying as yesterday, though, you think this dose isn’t as strong, thank fucking god. You’re still horny and you can barely think, but you don’t feel like you’re about to shake yourself to death.

“Karkat,” you say, and it comes out in a breathy moan. You clear your throat and try again. “Karkat, man, we probably should’a talked about this earlier, but like, I’m super down to fuck again if you want to. I don’t wanna just sit there sufferin’ like before, and I mean I guess we could just take turns jackin’ it in your bathroom, but if I’m honest, that doesn’t sound half as nice as gettin’ it on together in here, right now.”

His red cheeks get even redder, and you can see how dilated his pupils are with arousal. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, clearly debating with himself.

Then he takes a deep breath. “Okay, sure. Fuck it.”

He steps in close to you, and, oh shit, this is really happening, isn’t it. Your head spins and you lean into him, tilting your head and kissing him on the lips. He kisses you back enthusiastically, fuck, it’s really good. It’s not as fierce and desperate as yesterday, but it’s still sloppy as hell and feels amazing. He licks into your mouth and you moan. He slots his leg between yours, and you shamelessly rut up against his thigh. He grabs your shoulders, runs his hand up your neck and into your hair, reaches down to grope your ass, he’s all over you and it feels amazing, incredible. You sigh happily.

He breaks away from you, and pulls you toward his ‘coon, shoving you up against the side of it. It’s kind of squishy but firm, and it seems to support your weight easily. He leans down to kiss you again, grinding against you, both of you still clothed.

“Pants off,” you gasp, and you both break away to fumble with your clothes, tossing them aside. You move your hand down to tangle with his tentacle, and he reaches between your legs, feeling up your balls.

“What are these?” he asks.

“My balls, dude,” you say. “They’re, uh, what generates my spunk I guess? You can touch, but please be gentle with ‘em, they’re hella sensitive.”

He frowns. “Why the fuck are they dangling outside your body then?? Who designed you?”

“I don’t fucking know,” you whine. “Does it matter? Just touch me, man.”

He snorts a small laugh, and goes back to feeling you up, touching between your legs. He reaches down toward your asshole, and you blush, turning your face away. God, why is this so much harder to do today, when you’re not totally drugged out of your mind? You _want_ him to fuck you. You’re just… being weird about it. Ugh.

Karkat grabs one of your legs and pulls it up, giving him easier access to your asshole. His dick is out and wriggling around, slapping between your thighs. He guides it up to your hole, it’s brushing around and swiping, trying to squirm inside.

“Is this ok?” he asks, and it’s so gentle you feel embarrassed.

“Yeah,” you manage.

He lets his bulge’s tip find its way inside you. Fuck, it feels _weird_. For a moment, you wonder if it’ll actually even feel good today, or if it was just a side effect of the overdose. Then his dick pushes further into you, stretching you open a bit, and brushing against _something_ inside you that feels _really fucking good_ , and you aren’t wondering anything anymore. You don’t have the mental capacity to wonder anything, because you’re so fucking turned on right now.

Karkat’s bulge slowly fills you up more and more, and you moan and writhe under him. He watches you with something like fascination or adoration, and it’s somehow more intense than the tentacle writhing in your ass. You grab him and pull him down to kiss you so he won’t keep _looking_ at you like that.

He kisses you back, and you gasp into his mouth as his love tentacle swipes over your hot spot, over and over. Your dick is leaking onto your stomach, and you groan, reaching your hand down to stroke yourself. He pushes your hand away, and you protest, except that he grabs it himself and you’re so fucking happy, holy shit, he’s touching you on the inside and the outside. It feels so fucking good you think you might die. He’s stroking you, squeezing just a little too tight but it feels fucking incredible, his tentacle swipes inside you again, shit, shit--

Your orgasm hits you before you even realize it’s happening, and you cry out, cum spurting from your dick and painting white all over your stomach and Karkat’s hand. He grunts in surprise, and works you through it. When it starts to become over-sensitive, you gently pull his arm away and he lifts his cum-covered hand up to his lips, licking at it. Holy shit, that’s hot. You stare at him wide-eyed, dizzy and blissed-out, as he licks every drop of your cum off of his hand.

“Fuck,” you say.

He looks at you with something fiery in his eyes, and grabs your hips, driving into you hard. His dick thrashes inside you once more, his eyes roll back in his head, and his pinkish-red cum just absolutely pours fucking _everywhere_. Most of it gets all over you, since you’re under him, but a lot gets on the floor and on his own legs too. You’re seriously gonna need a shower after this.

You kiss him and he looks down at you, starry-eyed. Fuck. Your heart flops weakly in your chest.

You shower together, and he fucks you against the shower wall. It’s soft and warm and the water pouring over your over-sensitive skin makes everything more intense. You can’t stop kissing him afterward, your heart in your throat and his arms holding you tight.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm @alldavekat on [twitter](https://twitter.com/alldavekat) and [tumblr](https://alldavekat.tumblr.com)
> 
> my [homestuck rp discord server](https://discord.gg/Zmq9B9R) (18+)


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